


A Self-Proclaimed Black

by Penmanboat



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penmanboat/pseuds/Penmanboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elladora Lestrange would much rather go by El Black. The day before the seventh anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, her students asked a simple question: 'What did you fight for' Her answer? A tale of not letting her mother's name dictate her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

"Professor! Professor!" a small child in the back of the room called out.

"You add the dragon's foot to the brew and wait for about three minutes until it turns green. Then you know it's safe for you to add the draught of oak."

"Professor!" the same child drowned out.

"What is it Charles?" the professor closed the book around her finger and stared at the young child. He had a habit of disrupting her class.

"Tomorrow is the anniversary! Do we really have to have potions class?"

"For the last time, Charles, just because Hogwarts almost fell seven years ago doesn't mean potions class stops. Now back to the lesson," she went back to teaching the class. But the deed was done. The class was no longer focused on the potion they were making. Their minds were filled with thoughts of the Battle of Hogwarts and the ceremony tomorrow.

"Professor?" a blonde Ravenclaw piped up.

"Yes, Jessica? What is it?"

"What was it that you fought for that day?"

The teacher stood there for a second pondering what the girl asked, "What did  _I_ fight for?" She went to her desk and showed her first-years the picture that perked her up when she was sad, made her cry when no one was looking, and made her remember every day.

"This is what I fought for." The class reacted with a small silence before another student, this one a young and brave Gryffindor, asked, "What happened?"

Sometimes she got tired of telling this story, it was such a sad tale, but the new generations should know the stories of the old.

"Alright, everyone get comfortable," she sat down on a stool, "let me tell you a tale."


	2. Chapter 2

Outside of the train that took the students to Hogwarts, many parents said goodbye to their first years. Two parents, both noticeably ginger, waved goodbye to their older sons who were already well-known at Hogwarts, and gave the twins that were going to their first day of school.

"Now, Fred. George. Do not do anything that will upset the teachers or get yourselves in trouble," their father leaned down to tell them. He grabbed his two sons and gave them a big bear hug. The two of them had started out their lives with much laughter. Though, they way that they achieved laughter would usually get them in trouble.

Their mother knelt to them as well, and handed them some snacks for the train ride. They were hoping that, for their first time on the train, that their mother would give them a few sickels or knuts for the snacks that were on the train. But, they knew that their parents were barely scraping by with their father's meager earnings, so they both gave a smile.

After giving a few more hugs, the boys heard the train whistle blowing, and they ran to the train. As the train pulled out of the station, the twins looked for a cart that had space for them. Most of the kids on the train scoffed at their attempts to socialize with them. Weather it be their age or their family, the twins did not know nor care.

Finally, the came to a cart that was in fact empty. George called to Fred, who was further behind him, as he opened the door. Except, it wasn't empty.

Inside sat a young girl with unruly black hair sat closest to door curled into a tight ball. Nobody was sitting with her, and the Weasley twins thought that it was a bad sign. But the girl looked so sad and lonely, that the couldn't bare to leave her alone. They sat next to each other in the middle of the seat opposite of hers.

"Hi! I'm Fred!"  
"And I'm George. Pleasure to meet you."

The girl looked at them for a minute. She was skeptical for the reasons why they were acting so nice to her. Didn't they know she was?

"Elladora. Or El for short." Now they should catch on. They would run away like the rest of them. Scared. And not wanting to have anything to do with her.

"Don't you have a last name? Our's is Weasley," the boy on the left said with a frown. Now that El knew that they were Weasley children, would she run away?

"You won't be my friend if you knew."

"You still want to be our friend? After you know who we are?"

"Just because of the all the supposedly 'bad' things that I've heard about your family doesn't mean there true. Besides, I don't know you, so how can I judge you?"

"Then why don't you tell us your name?"

"Because, my family is awful. They are murders. Scum. And they scare even me," El began to tear up thinking about it.

"But just because you share a name doesn't mean that you are the same as them. C'mon, what's your name?"

El sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve, "Elladore Lestrange."

The boys looked at each other as El put her head in hands. She knew it. They were so close to being friends. Her first friends. But, they were like -

The two Weasley twins had come over and together pulled the raven-haired child into their arms. They sat their for a minute, a little awkwardly. And George whispered, "We don't care," and Fred finished, "You can be our friend. Our best friend."

The three of them sat on the train bench together, El in the middle. "You know," Fred said, "You could tell people that your name is something else. Not that you should, but let's be honest: most people are pricks."

El sat there and contemplated. Her mother had two cousins: brothers, that she had looked up to when she was younger. One in particular, but we don't talk about him.

"Black. Elladora Black."

"Like Sirius Black? They guy that murdered his friends?" Fred asked.

"He was falsely accused. I know it."

"Whatever," George said smiling at her, "I like it. A self-proclaimed Black you are."


End file.
